


Once Again, My Love (Wait For Me)

by writing_shorts_but_failing



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A birthday gift for my friend, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, He's awesome!, M/M, Other, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Yearning, idk what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_shorts_but_failing/pseuds/writing_shorts_but_failing
Summary: Over and over again, they meet and revolve around each other. Sometimes they cannot be together, and sometimes they never leave each other's side.Meeting is inevitable, being together is not always so.
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Once Again, My Love (Wait For Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Constantine_You_Owe_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constantine_You_Owe_Me/gifts).



> Oh, Erwoica, you said you liked angst when I asked. This is light angst, so please enjoy!
> 
> Happy birthday!

Bard (as he was now) could remember the soul that always followed him, accompanied him. His love was not always an elf, a human, a dwarf, a man or a woman. Sometimes they had no body at all. Usually his love could not remember him, but they inevitably found each other.

His last life as Elerrian had been ended abruptly before he saw his child grow to maturity. His little prince just starting to learn how to wield a sword, already so good with bow and arrow.

He didn’t look for his love, he knew right where he was, he couldn’t put him through loving someone that would live in the blink of an eye for an elf. Bard had made decisions like this a few times, it always felt like his heart was being slowly cut from his chest.

Lake town is a harsh life, although not the worst that he’s ever lived through. He has food most days, people to talk to, he sees the sun and moon when it’s not cloudy, and his love is close by.

He marries his best friend from this life, having three children before her life ended in illness. He mourns her, for he had loved her, but he gets up and works twice as hard. Sigrid, as the oldest or perhaps because she wants to help, takes over the house chores completely and Bard is so grateful that he has wonderful children.

Even though this body is the descendant of a king he had no plans of leading the people of Esgaroth, that didn’t change until one day he realized they kept coming to him instead of the Master. His love had called him oblivious plenty of times, in every life, but twenty-five years of not noticing was a bit much.

Bard did what he could for the people, for his family, and hoped that it would be enough by the time this life ended. Men lived such short lives compared to elves, he hopes his love does not sail west. The world would be remade before they saw each other again if Thranduil went west.

Thorin Oakenshield washed into Bard’s life and everything was chaos. He scrambled to keep his family safe, cursing his soft heart, and after his home burned he saw his love again.

Just as before, so many times before, his love did not recognize him. Thranduil had grown cold and bitter since Bard had last seen him, doing anything to desperately hold onto pieces of his dead wife.

It hurt to see his proud Thranduil reduced to this shell of himself, his love going so far as to stifle their son for fear of losing him as well. Thranduil should have faded many centuries ago, holding on like this was twisting him.

Bard hardly had time to think about all of this when there was suddenly a small _war_ going on. He had been in many battles, a handful from this life, and he tore through the orcs even when his human stamina was flagging.

It was bittersweet when the fighting ended, the line of Durin was slain along with Azog and its spawn, and the hobbit was devastated from the loss. Bard became the official leader of Esgaroth and Dale, something he did not want but would take so that people like the Master could not grab it to use and abuse.

This new position gave him plenty of opportunities to talk to his love and he felt a longing every time they conversed, he wanted to hold Thranduil as he had once done. He wanted to whisper sweets words and give tender touches.

Truly, being a different race was always painful.

It caused Bard great sorrow and elation that Thranduil grew closer to him, he did not want to leave his love alone again with a broken heart.

The inevitable always happened though, for all that neither of them acknowledged the bond. Drinks and conversations, small tokens and lingering looks. The saddest part was explaining to his children that he would not be marrying his love.

They almost took up arms for him, which was so sweet and concerning, but he managed to talk them down. He had to put off giving Bain the crown for a few years because of it.

He saw his children have children and the people his age started dying more and more often. He enjoyed his retirement by sitting around and reading or whittling, his body too frail now to go hunting as it used to. The long-term malnutrition, hard labor, various injuries, and being human had taken quite the toll on him.

Bard still got visits from Thranduil, although the time stretching between each was getting longer and longer. His love was distancing himself, preparing for Bard’s inevitable death, even though Thranduil was still drawn him.

It was a winter day when he last saw Thranduil as Bard, king of Esgaroth. The land covered in newly fallen snow, undisturbed by elvish visitors.

“You came to see me one last time,” Bard held a cup of warm tea in his trembling hands, the cold did his old bones no favors these days. “I’m glad. It’s nice to see an old friend before leaving.”

“You speak so lightly of dying?” Bard could hear the sorrow in his love’s voice. Thranduil could hide no emotion from him, Bard had known him too long.

“Of course, all things must die eventually.” He had seen it over and over again. “Anything that has a beginning will have an end.”

He looked over and saw the barely held emotions. Impassive to most but not to him, never him.

“You should know better than most.” Elves saw the rise and fall of many people, themselves included.

Bard held out a hand to Thranduil. He smiled when his love took his hand, his hands gnarled with age while Thranduil’s were still beautiful and young.

“I have a favor to ask, one last time.”

“What do you wish?” Bard smiled, his love truly was weak to him.

“When it is time to head west,” Bard looked at Thranduil’s face, taking in every detail and seeing the soul of his love shine through the mortal shell. “I ask that you stay instead of go, I wish to see you again sooner than later.”

“Such a thing to ask!” Thranduil hissed, but didn’t let go of Bard’s hand or crush it in his grip. Such a dramatic soul, his love. “ . . . I will consider it.”

That was as good as an agreement.

“Thank you, love.” Thanduil sat in stunned silence and Bard sipped his tea. He thought for a moment about saying the unsaid, but that would hurt Thranduil even more. “What should I get Sigrid for her birthday? She will be a young woman soon, perhaps I should get her a sweet since she’s still a child.”

The look of pain on his love’s face made his heart ache but pretending to be senile was better than the other option.

They continued talking about things from the past, plus some newer topics. Thranduil drinking his, terrible, homemade wine and Bard sipping tea. He nodded off in his chair a few hours after sunset.

He awoke in his bed with almost all of the spare covers piled on top of him, his love was such a worrier.

Bard dies surrounded by his children and grandchildren on a spring afternoon. He is gladdened and sorrowful that his love is not by his side.

They will meet again, it is inevitable. Maybe next time they can be happy together.


End file.
